


Family Dinner

by Haley3



Series: Flat Dreams inspired [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: And feels, Flat Dreams AU, Gen, Spin-Off, pain everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haley3/pseuds/Haley3
Summary: A normal family dinner, before Bill's arrive into the Cipher's lives.Based on Flat Dreams/Flat Minds.





	Family Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flat Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903247) by [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan). 



> Hi.  
> I must admit it. Every time I read this oneshot, I feel pain.  
> But don't worry! Have fun! Enjoy!  
> And remember: this story won't give you feels.  
> I repeat: IT WON'T GIVE YOU FEELS.
> 
> As always, thank you to the wonderful PengyChan for reading and correcting my mistakes! And if you find any other, feels any pain or just want to yell my name into the night, feel free to leave a comment <3

On the sideboard in the living room, the family photos are enclosed in white frames. The first one shows him and Melpomene in front of their new home: she is wearing the feathered hat that he gave her as a present and her eye is half-open in a flirty way, her hands resting on his arm.

The second photo shows Melpomene, sitting on the armchair. In her arms, she has a little bundle wrapped in a gray blanket. Her eye is bent on the small figure, around her wrist waves the bracelet she wore on their wedding day. The bracelet had brought her luck that day: she could’ve married her beloved Triangle, she told him. It would bring her luck even when their unborn child revealed his sex.

Norman takes the third picture. He and Melopomene are sitting side by side on the same couch. The bundle in her arms is wider, one eye pops out from a triangular top. Even though they are hidden behind the blanket, it’s painfully clear how much the sides are irregular. Melpomene doesn’t smile, doesn’t wear her bracelet; she never wore anymore from the day William opened up and showed his irregularity.

The photo shakes it in his hands, the glass sends back a shadow of his reflection. Norman raises his head: in the mirror, his eye is surrounded by fine lines and wrinkles. He touches one with his free hand: his fingers feel the depth, how the wrinkle has dug his skin, the time passed. His self in the photo had them already. He had them since he and his wife were coming inside their new home for the first time, newlyweds full of hope.

“Dinner is ready!”

His wife calls from the kitchen. Her voice is no longer ringing, she doesn’t appear on the doorstep and sends him a kiss, as it was the first days of marriage. Or during pregnancy.

Norman puts the picture back in place and goes to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is almost ready.

Melpomene sweeps the crumbs away from the table and puts on a clean tablecloth: all around the border there is a decoration with flowers and triangles that hold hands. The little triangles are all equal, all equilateral.

She rolls the tablecloth quickly and takes another one, a white one. She puts this on the table and folds up the decorated one. It's been since Liam was born that she tries to never put that tablecloth on, but it always appears in her hands. Melpomene would’ve already given it away, if it wasn’t her father's last gift.

Her eye fills with tears. Her father couldn’t even hold his grandson in his arms. If only she had become pregnant a year earlier, he could have seen him. Perhaps seeing his grandpa would’ve had a positive influence on Liam's regularity.

She rubs her eye and goes to wash the last dirty dishes. Her father's memory follows her: his shape sat in the kitchen, his big hand stretched out towards her, when she was sitting on his lap and how he drove her hand into writing the letters of the alphabet. Her father had lived up to 67 years: he had done his best to survive as much as possible.

She sighs. Norman had lost his parents long time ago and her father was the last grandfather that Liam could’ve known when he was alive. It would have been more pleasant for him to meet his grandpa in person, instead of through her memories. If only she had become pregnant earlier…

The timer dings. Melpomene turns off the fire, finishes to set the table and puts the pot in the center. She closes her eye and sighs. It will not take too much time. It will be quick.

“Dinner is ready!”

 

* * *

 

The shelf is too high from the floor. Liam tries to reach it out, jumps on the spot: he can touch the shelf’s border just with his fingers, the book is still unattainable. With a sigh, he stands on the bed. If his mother sees him, she will be angry and pull him down. Well-behaved triangles do not stand on beds. And he is no longer a child, he must learn to behave well.

But that shelf is just too far away and he can reach it only from the bed. He just needs to be quick and his mother will not notice anything.

Liam stands on the bed and immediately hangs to the left side. He stretches his arms, leans against the wall, and puts his feet down with more force. It's hard to keep balance on a soft and wavy thing like a bed. And he has to be careful: if he falls to the ground, he might get hurt. He might even break one of his sides.

The only thought turns his insides. Liam takes his mind off that idea and sets his eye upon the shelf: the book is near, at arm's reach. He leans against the wall with one hand and stretches out the other one towards the volume.

He catches the book and the weight on his arm makes him hang to the ground. Liam scratches the wall, can’t find a grip. He can feel himself falling.

_No, no, no!_

He grabs the book with his other hand and pulls it towards him, so suddenly to give himself a push backwards. He falls back on the bed, with a soft rustling of blankets. The book falls on his shape, taking from him a surprised little yelp.

A hand runs to his eye, the other locks around the book. No noise to be heard, no approaching footsteps. Luckily, no one has noticed. Liam breathes a sigh of relief and brings the other hand back to the book. His weight is comforting, his pages are overflowing with images. He can hear them whispering: they want to go out, fill his room and turn it into the white cave where the heroic Triangle and his friends were going during the treasure hunt.

He raises the book, caresses the cover and lays him on the bed. But before reading, he must put the blanket in place and sit properly. If his mother came in and saw him flopped down on a disarrayed bed, she would get very angry.

Liam rises on his elbows and succeeds in getting up, snorting. He jumps down the bed with a leap and his left knee bends over, forcing him to cling to the sheets. He doesn’t have to be too fast, he knows. Even the doctor told him.

“ _You're still small and your shape is fragile, young man,_ ” he told him while giving him a candy, “ _You don’t have to hurt yourself. If you get hurt, things can become much more serious. We must contain the damage, do you understand?_ ”

Contain the damage. Often he repeats it by himself. There has been a damage, so now he needs to avoid other ones. He must be careful and behave well. If he behaves well, his mother will look at him with sweeter eye.

Liam stands up, as straight as possible. He lays the blanket on the bed and straightens it until all wrinkles disappear. His mother will be satisfied when she’ll see that his room is tidy. Maybe she'll even stop for a few more seconds and will tuck him in. He would like it.

He drops his eye on himself. If his sides were the same, his mother would come more often in his room, talk more, smile more. And his father would not avoid his gaze.

“ _You have to wait and do your exercises every day,_ ” the doctor told him. “ _If we're lucky, with the growth your sides will be the same size again._ ”

The doctor was right. Sometimes the little ones were born with their sides slightly irregular, but then they straightened by themselves. So maybe he too has to wait and his sides will settle. Perhaps, one morning, he will wake up and his sides will be regular again and everything will go well.

Liam puts his hand on the longer side, rubs it as if that can shorten it. If only he could fix it, if only there was a magic to make them the same length…

“Dinner is ready!”

His mother's voice gets Liam off his thoughts. His hand falls down his side, he turns to the closed door of the room.

With a sigh, he looks back to the bed, to the book that is waiting for him. He can come up with an excuse. He can say that his stomach hurts and he prefers to eat in his room... no, better not. He doesn’t want to see his mother coming into his room with a low eye. He doesn’t want to see her pretend to organize his already organized books, while she spies him with the corner of her eye and checks that he eats everything on the plate. It’s better to go to the kitchen and sit at the table.

But sitting at the table means having both her and his father's eye stare at him. It means swallowing food without even wanting it and feeling it heavy inside the stomach. However, once the dinner is finished and he has done his duty as son, he can get up and go away without feeling guilty. He can close the room’s door behind him, feel the dinner going down smoothly and return to the cave, along with his heroes, to solve the puzzles waiting for them.

 

* * *

 

 

Norman is the first to enter in the kitchen and he wants to get out already. Melpomene turns to look at him and Norman reads the same thought in her eye. _Why did you arrived first? To make him feel embarrassed?_

He would like to turn around and go out, perhaps with an excuse. But his wife's eye continues to look at him, bolts him there, blocks the door, accuses him. Getting out would be stupid. Getting out would make it clear _why_ he’s doing that and it would be embarrassing. He can’t get out when he’s in.

Norman goes round the table and take a place in his seat. He feels his legs creak when he sits in the chair. He wants to get out. But if he wanted to do so, he should’ve been younger and faster: instead he is an old Triangle, with an unhappy wife and a son who is coming in the kitchen and will remind him, with his only presence, all the mistakes he has done.

He lowers his eye.

 

* * *

 

 

Melpomene focuses on the plates. She looks at the plates and stirs the soup. She doesn’t have the strength to raise her eye again and cross his husband’s. She still feels his gaze on her, she still feels it accusing her. _Why haven’t you called Liam first? Why weren’t you two here yet?_ She was stupid, she hadn’t thought about that. But dinner was ready and she didn’t want everything to cool down.

Liam's little steps are getting closer, she can hear them above her constant mixing. She mustn’t turn towards the door. She must let him in, she must focus on the dishes. If she focuses on them, she will not feel Liam accusing her. If she focuses on making portions, she will not remember that it’s her fault if her only son is irregular.

Her father's memory dampens her eye. She must not think about him either. She must not remember that it’s her fault, if her father died without knowing his grandchild. She must not think that if he was alive, maybe Liam wouldn’t be so irregular.

Melpomene raises the ladle and pours the portions into the plates.

 

* * *

 

Liam leans a hand on the door frame. Will they both be already inside? He doesn’t like when his parents are already in the kitchen and he is the last one to arrive. But it would be even worse if, while waiting outside, he crossed his father: the last time that happened, his father gave him way. _That’s not right_ , he wanted to tell him. _You are my father. You are older than me. You should go first_.

The memory makes him ashamed and urges him to move. Liam puts his foot beyond the kitchen doorstep and two eyes rise up and look at him. They freeze him in place, surround him, scrutinize him from the top to his feet and Liam feels his legs weak, he wants to run away in his room, away from those eyes, away from that kitchen that is too small, too full, too…

The ladle touches the pot and Liam shakes out of his trance. His mother is pouring the soup and from his plate a wisp of smoke is already rising. Liam sits, pushes the chair to approach the table and puts the napkin on his legs, as he has been taught.

The ladle goes back into the pot, his mother sits down.

“Enjoy your meal” announces his father, raising the spoon first. His mother answers with a shy whisper, Liam with a tone just a little higher. His father's eye is fixed on the plate, his spoon dipping into the soup without a single noise.

Liam tries just a little peak at his mother: she is staring at her plate too. Her pupil always seems to vibrate, a subtle trembling makes her hands shake. Liam lowers his eye too and starts eating. Every bite makes him more aware of his sides: he can feels them burning, getting stretched and distorted at every slight little gesture. His parents’ eyes are looking at his sides, scrutinizing them, analyzing them, hating them.

Liam knows that is all his fault. He knows that he shouldn’t have born like that. He knows that if his father barely looks at him and his mother is always on the verge of crying, it’s only because it’s all his fault. He shouldn’t have been born so irregular.

Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t been born at all.

 

* * *

 

Norman feels the spoon getting heavy too. Every bite takes away several years of his life, every bite marks the flow of time. He gets old and dies, while his wife, his beautiful wife, loses the better years of her life next to a Triangle, unworthy to be considered like that. A Triangle that wasn’t able to give her regular genes.

Then there’s him, with that small, sweet innocent eye. William, Liam, their love child, his own form and blood. In Liam’s eye, Norman reads the condemnation he forced him to live with. It's normal that Liam hates him. In fact, Norman accepts that hate. Liam must hate him. If he hadn’t made that stupid mistake, if he had married earlier his beloved, he would now have both of them with him: a wife with an always bright eye and a happy son, who can go out to play with the other little ones, who can go to school, who can go with him at work.

Instead he is here, sitting at the table of a kitchen that is too small, with a wife who suffers because his genes were not up to standard. And with a son he himself condemned.

He lost both of them and this is the punishment he has to live with.

 

* * *

 

Melpomene does not dare to raise her eye from the soup. She made the mistake of watching Liam. She has embarrassed him and now he hates her. And he’s right to hate her, because it’s her fault, it’s all her fault and she knows it. She knows that's her fault. She knows she has not been able to handle the pregnancy. Her mother had only one daughter, yet she managed to have her and grow her without any problems. Her mother was strong and her father was perfectly regular. A fine Equilateral, from the corners regular to the millimeter. Even in his last years of life, he never showed any sign of irregularities: until his death, his angles remained sixty degrees.

The fault is hers. She's the one who did wrong. She must have something wrong inside, something that has given birth to her son with such a degree of irregularity. Norman is perfect, a regular Equilateral just like his dad. It is not his fault. She is the culprit. And because of her, her son has to suffer.

The thought brings tears to her eye. She couldn’t help but look at Liam, when he entered the kitchen. So small, so tender, so fragile. Her heart quivers every time her eye falls on his little hands, those little legs, on his big, innocent eye. Even though his shape is distorted, she can see Norman in him. In Liam’s little steps, she sees the shadow of her husband's determined ones. In the way Liam sits, she sees an echo of the education her father has given her.

_Oh, Dad, if only you were here for him ... if only you could fix my mistakes..._

Melpomene swallows soup and tears. On her right, her son's eye, on the other, on her left, her husband's eye. She ruined everything. It's normal that Liam hates her. It's normal Norman hates her. She would like to go back, when she and Norman had decided to have a son. She would go to the doctor, undergo all the medical examinations. Not throwing herself so stupidly, so unreasonably. She trusted so much their love ... “ _Our love will make everything beautiful,_ ” she thought. “ _Our love will make everything easy_.” And at the end it was not only Liam, but also her marriage to suffer.

Oh, Norman. It was all so happy when they got married. It was all so bright when she was pregnant. Her form grew, their love grew. Norman covered her with flowers and kisses. He had entrusted her his genes, with the hope of a perfect son and she had destroyed that dream.

But ... her chest flutters, that morning’s meeting coming back to her mind. _Kresistin. Maybe there is still hope for us, my love..._

“Oh, by the way,” she starts, raising her eye from the pot and turning to her husband, “Kresistin, from the Sanitary and Social Board, came by today. It seems they have found an Equilateral we can adopt”

Norman looks up, his pupil widens. Quickly, he glances to the other side of the table and Melpomene feels her blood run cold. Stupid, stupid, a hundred times stupid! She had spoken without thinking and has ignored Liam, sitting at her right side, still here and aware.

Norman looks at her, in his eye Melpomene reads the burning accusation. Not only she wasn’t able to fulfill her role as a Line, but she couldn’t even use a little gentleness towards her own son! She could have waited another five minutes! Only five, the time to let Liam go back to his room. Norman is right to give her that bad look.

Her husband lowers the eye on his plate.

“Mh” he says, neutral “That’s interesting”

Melpomene lowers her eye back on the soup. She feels her right side burn, she feels Liam's eye pierce the surface, stab her heart. _Why are you doing this to me? Why are you looking for a replacement? Why haven’t you made_ me _Equilateral?_

 

* * *

 

Liam knows what the Sanitary and Social Board is. He knows that his parents are on the list to adopt a small Equilateral. And he’s okay with it. They are right to start a new life. They are right to look for a better son, one who does not have something wrong.

But... this thought makes his chest hurt. “ _You're still small,_ ” the doctor told him, “ _There's still time. Your sides may come back the same size_ ”. Magically, one morning he could’ve woken up and be regular. Magically, the longer side would shorten and the short one would lengthen.

_Magic_.

His parents do not believe in magic. Neither does he, outside the books. Magic is for stories. In reality, magic doesn’t exist. In reality, he is too irregular and his parents are on the list to have an Equilateral son who can make them happy.

The next bite stays in his throat and Liam swallows several times to send it down. He wants to go back to his room. He wants to move his chair, get off and run in his room, from his book. His book doesn’t care how long his sides are. As he reads, none of his protagonists point out how irregular he is. He doesn’t care to finish eating, he’s no longer hungry.

But he can’t do it. His mother put effort in preparing tonight’s dinner. And dinner is good: he’s sure it is, even though he doesn’t feel any taste in his mouth. His mother puts effort in giving him food and his father brings money home. Without his mother, Liam wouldn’t have food. Without his father, he wouldn’t have the books he loves so much.

Food is now heavier in his stomach. His parents put so much effort towards him. Although he’s irregular, even though his sides are all wrong, even if he hasn’t grown as he should have. He blew up all their efforts and they continue to give him home, food, and books. He should be kinder to them, as he has been taught. If he’s polite, they will be more relaxed.

Liam takes the last bite and swallows it: this one comes down more easily than the others. His legs are already shaking, ready to leave the room.

He puts down the cutlery without making noise, musters up his courage and raises the eye. His mother is still staring at the plate, his father's form is hidden behind the newspaper. “Come back” his book calls.

“Thanks for dinner” Liam murmurs. His mother raises the eye: it’s trembling and humid. Liam pushes the plate forward and takes off the napkin from above his legs. “It was all very good”

He doesn’t even remember the taste, but his mother made it and perhaps a compliment would make her happy. He would love to see her happy for once.

Liam moves the chair and touches the ground. He tries to straighten as much as possible.

“Uhm... I'll go back in my room.” he announces. “Good ... good night.”

Her mother lowers the eye again on the plate.

“Goodnight”

“Goodnight” says his father, from behind the newspaper. Liam would’ve liked it if he had lowered it, but perhaps it is better this way. He doesn’t want to see his eye fixed on him.

Liam goes out of the kitchen, back into his room as quickly as he can. Closing the door behind him gives him the relief he was looking for.

 

* * *

 

He sits in the bed and relaxes his legs under the blanket. It's been a long day and another long one is waiting for him tomorrow. Norman folds the newspaper, leaves it on the bedside table and gives a deep sigh.

Melpomene is sitting at the dressing table. She turns her back to him, but he can see her front, thanks to the reflection on the mirror. Her beautiful long eyelashes are half-open, while she removes her make up from the eye. Norman would like to get up and embrace her, but he doesn’t have the strength. She is too far, from the bed and from him.

“What did Kresistin say to you?”

The eyelashes lift up, their eyes meet through the mirror.

“He said that we must confirm quickly” she answers “If we aren’t fast, they will give him to a sterile family”

“And what did he say about the little one?”

“He was born from Isosceles”

Isosceles? Norman rubs his eye. This is a peculiar case. Usually, the small Equilaterals to be adopted are orphans, or they arrive from the border areas where the war rages on. It’s probably been 20 years since he heard about Equilaterals born from Isosceles.

Melpomene comes near the bed and sits next to him, under the blankets.

“Is he certified?” Norman asks.

“Yes,” she turns her wedding ring around the finger, “The Board passed yesterday and everything is already done. They’ve also taken the measurements,” she stops and puts her hand on the blanket, between them, “He's Equilateral”.

A small Equilateral, certified by the Board. A little hope for their lineage. The Cipher name would not fall. Norman sighs, unclasps his hands and puts one of his wife's. Their eyes lock again.

“Tomorrow I’ll go to Kresistin and confirm that we are available.” he says. “You will have the son you deserve.”

_The one I couldn’t give you._

Melpomene lowers her eye and leans against him. For the first time, after two years, Norman puts his arm around her and he can feel his wife's accusations crawling down the bed, out of their room.

 

* * *

 

Her husband is resting, eye closed and breathing steady. Melpomene pulls back the blanket and slides down the bed. It's late, light went off hours ago, but she can not sleep. The afternoon meeting with Kresistin fills her mind, his words overlapping her father's smile.

His father was Equilateral. A perfect Equilateral.

“ _We have certified him: he is perfectly equilateral_ ”

Melpomene opens the door and tiptoes across the hall. On the sideboard, she sees the photos of when she was younger, when she and Norman were smiling happly, of her firstborn in her arms. She didn’t want to show the other photos, Liam would feel embarrassed. She prefers to keep them in the dresser’s drawer, where she can see them as often as she wants.

The door of Liam’s room is closed, from under the doorway filters a fragment of light. She leans against the wood, tense in the hearing: a regular breathing can be heard from the inside. It's very late.

She lowers the handle without a noise and opens just a crack: the bed, an open book, the weak light of a candle, Liam's eye closed in sleep.

Melpomene slips into her son's room. Liam breathes easy, his form revealed by a weak light. He has read more than halfway through the book, he’s close to finishing it. She takes the book from his little hands, inserts the bookmark and puts it on the bedside table.

Without his book, with the blanket covering his legs only, Liam looks smaller than ever. She touches one of his fingers: it's half the size of hers. Melpomene takes the top of the blanket and, carefully, covers him up to the closed eye.

The tears go up again and she fights to repel them. Liam sleeps deeply, breathing slowly, as if he doesn’t want to bother her. He’s so helpless, so delicate that she feels her blood scream in her veins. If she was a stronger Line, he wouldn’t suffer like that.

Melpomene bends over to him and leaves a small kiss over his eye.

_Good night, my son_.

Struggling to hold back the sobs, she comes out of the room. She knows she shouldn’t do it. She knows she shouldn’t go in his room every night and tuck him in. Her son is condemned. They'll take him away. She knows that very well. That's why she cried, every night. That’s why she prayed, she invoked the Circles’ goodness to have a second chance.

_If only I could try again!_

She has been blessed with a second chance. A regular Equilateral, who needs a family to grow. An innocent newborn, on whom she can pour all her love. If she gives it to him, she will stop suffering so much. If she gives her love to him, maybe there will be nothing left for Liam.

A tear rolls down her eye as she crosses the hall again. She can try again, be a better mother. She will be able to show that she’s capable to raise a non-condemned son.

Melpomene comes back to her room. She lingers in front of the bed, in front of her sleeping husband. She’s not sleepy anymore. She sits at the dresser, lights up a candle and opens the drawer.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up suddenly, crossed by stabbing pain. Liam whimpers, grabs his long side: he tried again to sleep on his side, damn it.

He pulls up and tries to straighten out. The side hurts badly, throbs and pulls as if it wants to open in half. He would like to cry, but if he cries his parents will wake up and he doesn’t want to wake them up for him. His father needs to rest, as tomorrow he will have to work. His mother is tired and sad and seeing him like that, would only make her a lot sadder. He doesn’t want it.

He rubs the side and takes deep breaths to calm down. When he calms down, the pain is always gone. It's just because his sides are a bit irregular and they hurt him when he tries to turn around. It's nothing serious and he will not break in half. It never happened that a Triangle broke in half: he reads a lot of books and nobody wrote about it, so it’s impossible it will happen to him.

The hand slides on the bedside table, looking for a match to light up the candle. He doesn’t remember blowing it off, just as he doesn’t remember leaving the book there. He must have fallen asleep quickly, as soon as the page was over.

A white flame lights up the black chamber, the cover of his book, the blanket that slipped off. With light, darkness and pains go away, they become thinner. The side doesn’t hurt as bad as before. See? It didn’t take much.

His breath trembles in the room’s silence. No noise joins his. During the day he can hear the house’s creaks, his mother's footsteps, the outside voices. But at that time of the night the house is silent. What if in the dark there are monsters, huge, black and ready to devour him?

Liam's fingers run to the book, press him against his form like a shield. The book pushes away all monsters. He can almost see them as they go away. Liam leans back on the pillows, pulls the blanket up slightly and caresses the cover of the volume.

_“It seems they have found an equilateral we can adopt”_

That’s strange, why are those words coming back to him? Perhaps because his mother was so hopeful, as he had never heard her. Finally she can have a proper son. One better than him, who can make her and his father happy.

_If he will make them happy, what will I do?_

Liam puts the book on the bedside table, lies down and looks at the ceiling. Perhaps, that night the magic that will make him regular will happen. Perhaps, if he believes hard enough, magic will exist.

He sighs. He knows no magic will happen tonight. He's seven, he's still small, but he's not stupid. Magic doesn’t exist and his sides are too irregular. And soon, in his home, a small Equilateral will come to take his place.

He will be the his parents’ new son. Liam will see his parents smile.

His chest tightens. He wonders how his mother’s laugh sounds like. He wonders how his father looks when he explains something to a child. Perhaps he will hear his mother singing a lullaby. Ah, but he doesn’t know how small the new son is! Maybe he’s not so small, maybe he’s already a couple of years old and walks and speaks. He wonders how his voice sounds.

Liam pulls himself up just enough to blow off the candle, lies down again and intertwines his fingers over the blanket. Darkness is still illuminated by fragments of light and, in sparks, he sees the shape of an Equilateral. How big will his eye be? How will his arms be? Will he be taller than him, when he will grow? What name will his parents give him? And what will he be for the newborn? A stranger? A relative? _Liam_? He wonders how he will pronounce the name “Liam”. He wonders if he will ever pronounce it.

He yawns. The sleep comes back, lowering the eyelid on the tired eye. Liam lets it do it, he drifts off to the pleasant sleep. The image of the unknown, little Equilateral, remains imprinted in his mind. He would love to see him. He wonders if he looks at least a bit like he has imagined him.

 


End file.
